


Completely + Forever + No Matter What

by violetvaria



Series: Stable AU [1]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Stable AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dad!Jack, teen!Mac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 16:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: Jack was greeted by the sound of crashing glass.“Mac!”The former Delta didn’t notice that he automatically picked up the first weapon that came to hand—the broken bridle and reins he had brought home for Mac to fix—as he raced to the kitchen, ready to defend his home and his son from invaders.“Mac!” Jack stopped short in the doorway, eyes sweeping the room. That there were no intruders, armed or otherwise, was immediately apparent, but so was the source of the broken glass.~~~a scene set in dickgrysvn's Stablehands + Stable Homes AU





	Completely + Forever + No Matter What

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stablehands + Stable Homes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171) by [dickgrysvn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickgrysvn/pseuds/dickgrysvn). 



> Thanks to the gracious and talented dickgrysvn for creating and sharing the Stablehands + Stable Homes AU!  
> This is set early in that timeline, shortly after Mac moves in with Jack, prior to [**Ground Rules**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594054). It is not necessary to read that one, but it is necessary to read the incomparable [**Stablehands + Stable Homes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171). Among other elements, the idea of Jack remembering the date he and Mac met is filched directly from that story.  
> 

“Mac? I’m home!” Jack slammed the front door and shrugged out of his jacket, looking around. Mac had moved in a few weeks ago, and Jack had become accustomed to texting the kid when he was on his way, which usually meant Mac would be there to greet him, or he appeared within seconds of Jack’s arrival. But he spotted the kid’s phone left on the table in the front hall, which meant Mac had gotten busy thinking about something and had neglected to carry it with him.

So instead of a shy, eager smile, Jack was greeted by the sound of crashing glass.

“ _Mac!_ ”

The former Delta didn’t notice that he automatically picked up the first weapon that came to hand—the broken bridle and reins he had brought home for Mac to fix—as he raced to the kitchen, ready to defend his home and his son from invaders.

“Mac!” Jack stopped short in the doorway, eyes sweeping the room. That there were no intruders, armed or otherwise, was immediately apparent, but so was the source of the broken glass. A wine goblet lay smashed on the tile floor. Above it, on the counter, stood a barefoot Mac, dressed only in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, one hand still hovering in front of the highest shelf in the cupboard, the one just under the ceiling, where five glasses identical to the broken one sat.

Jack had just a fraction of a second to be thankful there was no danger and to wonder how he had totally forgotten what was even in that cupboard. Then his eyes narrowed. Mac was shifting to jump down off the counter, seeming not to notice the broken glass directly below him.

“Don’t move!” he snapped so sharply that the boy actually flinched before freezing. Jack immediately softened his voice. “You don’t wanna do that, buddy. You’ll cut your feet up. Come over here.” He approached the far end of the counter, gesturing for Mac to come closer.

Jack was watching his feet, trying not to get any glass on his shoes that he would carry into other rooms, so it took him a moment to realize that Mac hadn’t moved from his perch. “Kid?” He looked up.

Mac had gone pale, one hand clutching the cupboard frame as though it were the only thing holding him up. Jack could see the tremors even from a few feet away.

“Ah, Mac, I’m sorry, kid. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m not mad, okay? I was just worried you’d get hurt.”

The squinched-shut eyes cracked open, and Mac turned to his guardian. He immediately stiffened, breath catching, and his eyes screwed shut again.

Jack stared at him, baffled. He lifted a hand to try once more to coax the kid toward him, and that was when he noticed that he still had the reins in his hand. He cursed himself silently.

“Mac?” He kept his voice as quiet as he could. “Look, I’m putting it down, bud, okay? It’s just something I brought home for you to fix. Later. That’s all.”

The kid was still trembling, but his breathing began to even out.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, remember?” Jack hated, _hated_ that he had to remind the kid, that the kid would have ever assumed otherwise. “Just come over here, okay? Let’s get you away from that glass.”

Mac looked down at the mess on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, kid. I’m not mad. I’m sorry I yelled. Please.” Jack held out a hand again and slowly, with tiny, hesitant steps, Mac inched across the counter. As soon as he was near enough, Jack snagged his hand and squeezed.

Mac paused and studied Jack’s face, and the man waited patiently, letting the kid make up his mind that it was safe. When the tense shoulders relaxed just slightly, Jack began pulling on the hand caught in his own. Mac crouched down, and Jack let go of the hand to reach out his arms.

It took a minute, but finally Jack sighed in relief when he felt thin arms slip around his shoulders. “That’s it, son,” he breathed, and suddenly Mac was clinging to him as though he were the only safe harbor in a stormy sea, legs around Jack’s waist, arms around his neck, and face buried in his shoulder.

Jack took a few seconds to adjust. Mac was skinny and didn’t weigh much, but this barnacle-like attachment was a bit awkward. When he was certain he could do so without losing his grip on Mac, he turned and carefully carried the kid around the broken glass, out of the kitchen, and into the living room, where he dropped onto the couch, depositing Mac next to him without letting go.

“I’m sorry.” The tear-filled voice was muffled, but Jack suddenly realized it was not the first time those words had been spoken into his shirt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Shh.” Jack had to shush the boy several more times before the flow of apologies petered out. Jack began a litany of his own, aiming for a calming tone of voice, and he soothingly rubbed the kid’s back. “It’s all right. I’m not mad. You didn’t do anything wrong. Accidents can happen to anyone, remember?”

Jack thought he caught the word “glass” in what he could only describe as a whimper.

“No, it doesn’t matter, son. It wasn’t important. To be honest, I forgot they were even in there. Guess I need to do some spring cleaning, huh?” His weak attempt at humor elicited no response. He sighed. “Mac, come on, what do I need to say? I’m not mad. I wouldn’t hurt you even if I was. You’re not in any trouble.”

Jack could feel wetness seeping through his shirt, but the sniffles were slowing down.

“That’s it. Can you look at me?”

After a long minute, Mac sniffed again and sat up, eyes fixed on Jack’s shirt. Jack lifted a hand to the kid’s face, cupped his cheek, and used his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears. At the gentle touch, Mac finally looked up, blue eyes wet but steady.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack didn’t move his hand, thumb still stroking the pale cheek. “For breaking a glass? It ain’t a big deal, kid.”

“No, I—” Mac shook his head, his gaze falling. “I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have been messing with them. I—” His voice failed him.

“Mac. Look at me.” Jack waited until the blue eyes flicked up at him again. “Nothing in this house is off-limits to you, understand? This is your home. You don’t need permission to take whatever you want or need. Got it?”

Mac was staring, as though the words were in a foreign language and he was mentally translating. Finally, he spoke, but it was not the agreement Jack had been hoping for. “But—”

“Uh-uh.” Jack shook his head firmly. “No arguments. Sometimes things get broken. That’s just life, kid. It ain’t the end of the world, and it _certainly_ isn’t the end of you and me. There will _never_ be an end to you and me.”

The kid looked suddenly so hopeful that Jack slid his hand to the back of the blond head and pulled him forward so he could speak directly into Mac’s ear. “I love you, kid, you know that?”

He felt an infinitesimal nod.

“How do I love you?”

There was silence.

“Come on, son, we’ve been over this. How?”

The voice was subdued but audible. “Completely.”

“Uh-huh. And?”

Another pause, but this time Mac required no prompting. “Forever.”

“That’s right. And?”

The response was quicker and more confident. “No matter what.”

Jack hugged him tightly. “You got it, kid. So you really think some little accident is gonna mess up the good thing we’ve got?”

After a moment, Mac shook his head, and Jack could feel the tension leaving the slim frame.

“All right, then. How ‘bout you go put on some shoes, and we’ll clean up that glass.”

Mac glanced up at his guardian once more before saying softly, “Okay.” He rolled off the couch and noiselessly slipped out to the front hall to put on his work boots.

By the time Mac made it back to the kitchen, Jack was already sweeping up the glass. The man grabbed some paper towels, ran them under the faucet, and handed the damp towels to Mac. “Once I get these big pieces up, use that to pick up the rest, okay?”

They worked in companionable silence, and in a short time, the kitchen floor was deemed safe for bare feet again.

Jack mussed the kid’s hair as he put away the broom. “So what did you want with those old glasses, anyway?” He held up his hands at the boy’s quick look. “If you want to tell me, that is. You don’t have to.”

Mac relaxed a bit. “I was…just reading about resonance, and I remembered seeing those goblets, and I was thinking—”

Jack grinned, nodding along as Mac became more animated, words pouring out of him in a torrent that Jack couldn’t pretend to follow. He caught a few words like “wavelength” and “frequency,” enough to know the kid was making something or experimenting on something, and that was all he needed. He loved seeing the teen so excited, even if it was about nerdy science stuff.

When the flood of words finally stopped, Jack slung an arm around the slender shoulders. “Sounds cool, bud. Wanna get the rest of those glasses down now?”

“I—I can?”

“Hey, you heard what I said. Nothing in this house is off-limits. Maybe just use a stepladder instead of climbing around like a baby monkey.”

Jack laughed at the wrinkled nose and mumbled complaint, but Mac found a stepstool and climbed up to retrieve the other five long-stemmed glasses, handing them down to Jack.

“That’s it, buddy. All yours. Have at ‘em.” Jack waited until Mac was back on solid ground. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I won’t—I won’t break any more, Jack, I prom—”

“That’s not what I meant, kid. I don’t care if you break ‘em. They ain’t being used anyway. I meant be careful not to hurt yourself.”

“Oh.” Mac studied Jack’s face as if searching for a trace of deception. “Okay.” He offered a small smile. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack draped an arm around the kid’s shoulders. “Actually, bud, I think I have to take back part of what I said earlier. Hey, now, relax, it’s okay.” He turned Mac to meet his eyes. “Remember I said nothing was off-limits? There’s one exception to that.” Mac was watching him, unblinking, chewing on his lower lip. “My gun. I don’t want you to touch that, okay?”

Mac knew, of course, that Jack kept his old service weapon, but he had never seen it. Jack responded immediately to the unspoken question.

“Come on. I’ll show you where it is.” Jack led the way to the master bedroom and opened the closet, where a four-foot-square safe rested on a low shelf. “You watching? Here’s the combination.”

“Combination?” Mac repeated, his tone disbelieving.

Jack smiled. “I keep important papers in here. In case you need them. Plus, if there’s anything you want to keep in here, you’re welcome.” Jack made sure he had the kid’s attention and punched in six digits. The safe beeped and unlatched.

“That’s—” Mac stopped himself abruptly, afraid to make a claim to something that might be coincidence.

“The day we met,” Jack completed softly. “Yeah. I got this new one a few months after that, and I figured that was a number I’d remember.”

Jack had learned that while Mac craved physical affection, he didn’t often initiate it. But now Mac flung his arms around Jack, tears in his eyes. “You—I—”

Jack patted his back, trying to ignore the stinging in his own eyes. “I love you, kid,” he murmured. “Always have and always will.”

Keeping one arm around the boy, Jack used the other hand to swing the door of the safe open, revealing three metal shelves. He pulled out a file folder, placed it on top of the safe, and flipped it open to reveal birth certificates for Jack Wyatt Dalton and Angus MacGyver, two Social Security cards, and Jack’s passport.

“Just that kind of thing,” Jack said. “Nothing off-limits, okay? Except that.” He pointed at the gun resting on a shelf next to a box of ammunition. He felt Mac’s arms tighten around him, and the kid seemed to back away without actually moving. “It’s okay. You wanna look at it while I’m here?”

Mac shook his head hastily.

“You sure? I’ll teach you to use it, if you want. I just don’t want you playing with it if I’m not here.”

“I won’t,” Mac promised quickly, almost quickly enough to arouse suspicion. But Jack could feel the accelerated heartbeat, and he wondered, for the thousandth time, when he would really know everything the kid had gone through in his short life.

This wasn’t the time to dredge up memories. “I’ll show you how to use it later, okay? When you’re ready. Wanna close this thing up?”

Mac twisted the handle, a concentrated expression on his face as he studied the lock.

“Hey, now, no safecracking, okay? At least not on this one. I still need it.”

“What?”

“I saw that look, kiddo. Try to keep the genius contained enough that I can still use this thing, all right?”

But an idea was forming in the back of Jack’s mind.

A few months later, when they moved into the new house, Jack took Mac down to the basement.

“What—what is this?” Mac took a few steps, spinning to view the heavy plastic tarps covering the walls, the long tables lining the open room, and the collection of metal, plastic, and wood that anyone else would call _junk_ …including one old combination safe, propped open.

“This is your—” Jack choked back the word he’d wanted to say: _playroom_. “Your lab. If you want it.”

Mac’s mouth was hanging open. “You did this? For me?”

Jack beamed. “Yeah, braniac. You gotta have a lair, right?” His smile dropped when Mac began sniffling. “Hey, is it okay? If you don’t like it—”

“I _love_ it, Jack. It’s—I never thought—I just love it. I—” Mac swallowed. “Thank you.”

“Aw, kid.” Jack gathered him up. “You’re a genius. Of course you’ve gotta have room to experiment.” He looked directly into the big blue eyes. “Completely, remember?”

Mac’s smile was a little watery, but intensely bright. “Forever.”

“No matter what.”

“Me too, Jack.”

Jack held his kid contentedly, his heart completely full.


End file.
